A Wizards Christmas Carol
by sprinter1988
Summary: Well, 'tis about that time of year when I usually attempt to churn out something festive. A Snape-centric fic, though he is not portrayed in a positive light all the way through. On the other hand, I am going to try to be at least somewhat nice to him in this the title implies, this is based of the great story by Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol. Enjoy!
1. Stave One: Rosier's Ghost

**A Wizard's Christmas Carol.**

 _Summary:_ _Well, 'tis about that time of year when I usually attempt to churn out something festive. Alright, so last years didn't actually end up going anywhere and the year before that Lily Luna told some bad Christmas jokes, but this year I'm going to make a real effort. As the title implies, this is based of the great story by Charles Dickens: A Christmas Carol. Enjoy!_

 _Warnings:_ _Snape-centric fic, though he isn't really portrayed in a positive light all the way through. There are flash-back sequences akin to The Prince's Tale seen in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, but the reality isn't sugar-coated like it was in that particular chapter. On the other hand, I am going to try to be at least somewhat nice to him in this story._

 _Dumbledore-bashing, some light Weasley-bashing, 100% absolute Albus Severus bashing._

* * *

 **Stave One: Rosier's Ghost**

Rosier was dead, to begin with. That much must be established, otherwise nothing that happens within this story will make sense.

He had died beside his friend Wilkes as they both resisted arrest on Christmas Eve, 1980. Senior Auror Alastor Moody and his team had tracked them down and both men decided to fight rather than be arrested.

Evan Rosier was killed by Moody's wand. He is as dead as a doornail.

* * *

 _Christmas Eve, 1995_

Hogwarts was almost completely deserted. With Dolores Umbridge marching about the place, sucking the fun out of life as she brought in one educational decree after another, there wasn't a single student who had elected to stay within the castle over the Christmas Holidays.

As such, the staff were not required to be on duty and most had retired to their respective homes for the festive period.

Deep down in the dark and dank dungeons, one Professor remained, having spent most of the day working carefully on a potion.

As one of the castle's bells tolled five pm, the Professor pushed a stopper into the last phial and slipped it into a case, along with twenty four others.

Twenty five doses of love potion.

The boy was getting closer to the wrong woman, but to sever that closeness too quickly would raise alarm. The trick was to be subtle. Lightly applied throughout the rest of the school year, these potions would ensure that the boy would get closer to the one he was supposed to be with. The one the Headmaster had selected for him.

The Headmaster's reasoning was that the boy would grow to become a powerful influence on their society. As such, he needed to have a bride who looked the part.

Closing the case, the Professor sneered. As if _he_ cared who the brat ended up with. But the Headmaster had requested that he brew the potion…

There was a knock at the door and the Professor looked up to see the school's Caretaker standing in the doorway.

"What is it, Mr Filch?" demanded the Professor.

"I'll be locking the front doors within the next half hour, Professor Snape," replied Filch. "You'll need to be gone by then."

"Yes," replied Snape, somewhat tersely. "Thank you, Mr Filch."

The Caretaker nodded and shuffled out of the room as fast as his rheumatism would allow.

Snape took the case off of his desk and turned around.

"Wonky!" he barked.

With a pop, a small House Elf appeared in front of him.

"Yes, Professor sir?" asked the Elf, a young female.

Snape thrust the case towards her, impacting her in the stomach and knocking the air out of her.

"Take this to the Headmaster," he demanded. "It's bad enough that I had to brew it, I'll not store it in my house until the students return.

Wonky took the case from Snape, but it was much too heavy for her and the moment he relinquished his hold on it, the case dropped painfully onto her foot. Wonky winced in pain but made no sound. Looking up at him, she found in starting back at her without expression.

With a pop, Wonky vanished, taking the case with her.

Snape drew his wand and with a swish of it, all of the tools that he had used for making the potion were cleaned. Another swish and they all began flying back to their rightful places upon shelves or inside drawers or cupboards.

As this was happening, the Potions Professor marched into his own private quarters where he took an old black suitcase down from on top of his wardrobe. He didn't have much in the way of personal effects, and most of those that he did have he would not need during his time away from the school. A few flicks of the wand later and everything he needed was packed into the suitcase. All in all, he barely filled half of the suitcase.

He slammed the suitcase shut, grabbed his cloak and marched out.

In the Entrance Hall, he was met by Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration Professor, and the Caretaker.

"Are we the last?" asked Snape as he marched over to the front doors.

"No, we're still waiting on Professor Sinistra…" replied McGonagall.

As if on cue, the Astronomy Professor chose that moment to appear at the top of the marble staircase.

"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed as she made her way down the staircase. "I'm afraid I got rather caught up in the latest issue of Astronomy Monthly and didn't realise the time. I hope I didn't hold anyone up?"

"Not at all," replied Professor McGonagall, kindly. "Professor Snape has only just joined us. Shall we?"

She gestured towards the door and the other three nodded.

"So…" began Professor Sinistra, trying to keep the conversation going while Mr Filch locked the doors "How are you all planning to spend your time off?"

"I will be returning to by mother and father's old Manse outside Caithness," replied Professor McGonagall. "My two brothers and their families have a tradition of meeting there every year for Christmas. This is the first time in years that I will be able to spend the whole of Christmas day with them, rather than the few hours Dumbledore usually lets me have when the castle has students staying for the holidays. I must say that I am rather looking forward to it."

"Sounds like the best way to spend Christmas to me," said Professor Sinistra as they all began the walk down to the front gates of the school. "How about you, Argus?"

"I'm goin' down to Redruth in Cornwall," replied the Caretaker. "My sister runs a pub down there so I'm stopping in one of the rooms. Probably help out behind the bar as well. You know, she always used to do these roast dinners: silverside of beef with the best roast potatoes I ever had. Blimey, I'm getting hungry just thinking about it."

"The people you love and the food you love," said Professor Sinistra. "And you, Severus?"

Inwardly, Snape cringed, though on the outside nothing showed. He had been rather hoping that they would get to the gates and disapparate to their respective locations before she got to him.

Resigning himself he replied "Well, there are a few people I will look in on throughout the break, but nothing too specific."

And by that, of course, he meant that he would spend his free time doing what he always did – reporting to either Dumbledore or Voldemort about what the other was doing, but she didn't need to know that much detail.

He hoped that that would be enough to satisfy her.

It wasn't.

"Oh, okay," she said. "I suppose being cooped up in the castle all year means we have to get in as many visits to everyone we know whenever we can."

"Quite," agreed the potions master.

Things went silent for a few moments, giving Snape just enough reason to believe that there would be no further questions.

Then…

"So, uh… Would you maybe be interested in heading down to The Three Broomsticks for a drink or something before heading home? I mean, if you're not doing anything that is?"

The following few moments were awkward to say the least. Snape couldn't be entirely sure, but he thought that he heard a slight groan from McGonagall, which was possibly followed by the words " _Not in front of everyone…"_

Snape licked his lips. He had no intention of accepting, but he couldn't be too blunt about it in front of McGonagall, who would likely tear him a new one if she thought he was being too insensitive.

"Er-hem!" he coughed. "I'm afraid that I cannot accept your offer, Aurora. I'm due to visit an old acquaintance of mine in about an hour or so. He has a few… well, he's a bit senile but he has latched onto the idea that I will be visiting. If I don't go then he is likely to have an… episode."

"Oh… okay." replied the Astronomy teacher, sounding downhearted.

Snape supressed a smirk. The old senile acquaintance was a story he had used to get out of things before, and it wasn't entirely untrue. He was due to give a report to Voldemort later that evening and, while not necessarily senile, there was no way that the self-styled Dark Lord could be called sane. And as for the "have an episode if I don't turn up" bit – this was a reference to the fact that letting Voldemort down usually resulted in torture curses being thrown around.

So, sort of a lie, but also not.

"How about a rain-check then?" asked Professor Sinistra, in an apparent last-ditch effort to salvage something from the situation.

Snape caught the steely glare McGonagall shot him and found himself replying "Absolutely."

A few moments later they were at the gates and after a quick, cursory goodbye, Snape disapparated.

"Damn…" muttered Professor Sinistra.

"I wouldn't worry too much dear," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm sure that you could do better."

"Thanks," the younger witch mumbled.

There was a moment's silence, which was broken by Mr. Filch.

"So, are we having this drink or not?"

Aurora Sinistra smiled slightly, shrugged her shoulders and replied "Sure. Why not? Will you join us Minerva?"

Professor McGonagall rolled back her sleeve to check her watch before answering "Well, I suppose one glass of sherry with a few of my colleagues couldn't hurt…"

The trio made their way down to the village and entered The Three Broomsticks, where they met the school's Gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, who had already had a couple of drinks with Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher and Professor Sprout, the Herbology specialist.

* * *

A few hours later, Severus Snape was indeed in a meeting with Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. His report that Harry Potter and the Weasley siblings had been escorted out of Hogwarts following the attack on the Weasley's father, Arthur, had gone down well. While Voldemort would undoubtedly have preferred the man to have died, any grief caused to Harry Potter was good news in the Dark Lord's book.

Now Snape was sitting next to Avery, waiting for the meeting to end.

Lucius Malfoy finished his report on the current mood of Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, and resumed his seat.

"Excellent, Lucius…" hissed the Dark Lord. "Your efforts to ensure that the Ministry of Magic remain blind to my return are most pleasing."

Lucius nodded his head in acceptance of this praise.

Voldemort stood and addressed everyone gathered there.

"My loyal followers," he began. "It is time that we begin planning our next move. Despite our best efforts, recruiting new members while also trying to remain hidden from detection is proving to be a move frustrating task. While we remain hidden, recruitment will remain difficult, but we cannot afford to reveal ourselves yet."

Snape shifted a little uncomfortably in his seat, wondering where the Dark Lord was going with this.

"Therefore," continued Voldemort, "I have begun creating preliminary plans for an assault on Azkaban prison."

At that proclamation, the Death Eaters all exchanged looks and began muttering. Snape himself looked to Avery, who looked just as unsure as Snape himself felt.

"Too many of our number are behind those walls, being slowly turned to madness in the constant presence of the Dementors."

He moved away from his chair and began walking around the table. Empty chairs were left here and there, marking the former positions of those unable to return them due to their being in prison.

Approaching the nearest seat, Voldemort announced the name of the person who should be sitting there.

"Dolohov…" he continued on until he got to the next empty chair. "Rookwood…"

He kept going.

"Travers… Rowle… Northover… Campling… Mulciber…"

That one name caught Snape's attention more than the rest. Mulciber had been the leader amongst his fellow Slytherin dorm-mates while he himself was a student of Hogwarts. There had been five of them: Mulciber, Rosier, Wilkes, Avery and Snape himself.

Again, Snape exchanged looks with Avery. Neither of them was too thrilled with the prospect of having their schoolyard leader back amongst them. Following Voldemort's temporary banishment by Harry Potter in 1981, Snape's group of dorm-mates had been left decimated. Mulciber had been captured and sentenced to an extended stay in Azkaban while Rosier and Wilkes had been killed while resisting arrest a few months before.

Snape himself had been spared Azkaban mostly because Albus Dumbledore had vouched for him while Avery had succeeded on pleading that he had only partaken in Death Eater activities because he had been placed under the Imperius Curse by Mulciber. Given how Mulciber was well known to the Ministry for practicing such magic, this plea had been accepted.

Voldemort had made his way around the end of the table and continued to name the names of his absent Death Eaters as he returned to his seat at the head of the table, finishing with…

"…and of course, the Lestrange family; Rodolphus, Rabastan, and dear Bellatrix."

Bellatrix Lestrange, free once again. It was enough to make almost anyone hide under their bed and cower in fear.

As the Dark Lord returned to his seat he continued.

"The Dementors of Azkaban are our natural allies and our attempts to persuade them to join our side are progressing well. Macnair, you did well you secure the allegiance of the Giant colonies. Now assist Gibbon and the Carrows in their efforts with the Dementors. Once they are on our side, we will be able to proceed with an assault.

"Lucius, use your influence on the Minister to have him reduce the number of human guards stationed at Azkaban, convince him that the funds required would be better used elsewhere. I do not care for the lives of the Aurors; however, reducing their presence will aid us when we break out our missing comrades.

"The rest of you, go about your normal duties."

"Yes, My Lord," those gathered replied as one.

Voldemort dismissed them.

* * *

Without making a sound, Severus Snape apparated into a dark alleyway in the town of Cokeworth. He took a moment to look around to make sure that no muggles had noticed his arrival before turning in a swish of his black cloak and striding off along the length of the alleyway and out into the street beyond.

It being winter, the sky above was dark despite the time only being eleven minutes past eight. However, the glow of many street lamps lit the way, allowing many muggles to walk unimpeded here and there, visiting the local pub to sink a few festive drinks or visit the church for a special seasonal service. Judging from the sounds coming from the square, there was a choir and brass band making merry music.

Snape turned in the opposite direction to the pub, the church and the square. Despite his having lived in a house in the area all of his life, he knew none of the people here about. His cold demeanour made sure that every muggle in the area avoided him like the plague, and Snape liked it that way.

At the end of the street he turned right onto a road that sloped somewhat steeply downhill. The further down the hill you went, the dingier the houses got. Most these days were now abandoned, with boarded up windows, doors hanging off their hinges, holes in the roofs and what small gardens there were, were very overgrown.

Spinner's End, the area was called, and Snape lived in one of those houses. Originally it had belonged to his mother, a witch named Eileen Prince, and his father, a muggle named Tobias Snape.

Following their deaths, Snape had taken ownership of the house, though he greatly resented living there. For a time following his graduation from Hogwarts, two of his friends had moved in with him taking the two spare bedrooms in exchange for a few galleons a month. This arrangement suited Rosier and Avery just fine while for Snape it was a relief to have others in the house as it helped him to suppress the worst of his childhood memories, particularly those of his abusive, alcoholic father.

While only Rosier and Avery actually lived there, Wilkes had spent so much time there that he might as well have moved in permanently. Mulciber had been a less frequent visitor. His father had made sure that he had taken the mark of the Dark Lord within a week of his graduation from Hogwarts and Mulciber's malicious tendencies along with his skill in dark magic, especially the Imperius Curse, had quickly gained him the attention of the Dark Lord himself.

It wasn't long before Mulciber was in with the best followers that the Dark Lord had at his disposal, and all too soon Mulciber's visits had been less recreational and more recruitment-oriented.

Wilkes and Rosier had joined up first, followed soon by Avery, though that decision was more to please his father, a vicious man who was himself a Death Eater. Snape had held out the longest, something that had displeased Mulciber greatly. In the end it took a certain wedding ceremony to finally convince Snape to take the plunge and accept the Dark Mark.

Arriving at the gate outside his house, Snape paused. It had been fifteen years since Rosier and Wilkes had been killed while resisting arrest. Snape and Avery had been in the house indulging in some fire whiskey and a few mince pies when Mulciber had burst in through the front door, bruised and bloodied, out of breath and in desperate need of a glass of the afore mentioned fire whiskey.

Earlier in the day, Mulciber had been instructed by the Dark Lord to take Rosier and Wilkes to Godric's Hollow and assassinate Edward Abbott, his muggleborn wife Sarah Fisher and their young daughter. Evidently, following the murders of his best friend Edgar Bones and his immediate family, Edward Abbott had taken a few extra precautions to keep his family safe.

Aurors led by the much venerated Alastor Moody had arrived on the scene before the trio of Death Eaters could fire even a single spell. According to Mulciber, he and the others had killed two Aurors and severely crippled five others before Moody had put a permanent end to Rosier. Wilkes had panicked then and, never having mastered the technique required to apparate, had tried to run.

Wilkes had been cut down as he ran. Seeing both of his accomplices dead, Mulciber decided that there was no further point in fighting and had disapparated while he still could.

This had shaken Avery terribly and deeply unsettled Snape. They had, of course, heard of other Death Eaters being killed in action, but that was different. Those were other people, people they barely knew. But now it had happened to two of their friends, two people whom they had known since the age of eleven. Suddenly the reality of war was brought that much closer to home.

Mulciber had insisted that there was nothing to worry about and reminded them that the Dark Lord was close to taking the Ministry for his own, that Rosier and Wilkes had not died in vain, that they would be avenged…

But the taking of the Ministry never came. Ten months later, the Dark Lord had been banished following his attempt to murder an infant Harry Potter. In the wake of that massive turn of events Mulciber had been sent to Azkaban while Snape and Avery had only just avoided suffering that same fate. The two of them had quickly decided to cut their ties with each other in order to reduce suspicion and Avery had moved out. Since then he had married and had two children.

A chill wind blew down the street as Snape realised that Rosier and Wilkes had been dead for fifteen years that very night.

Shaking away his thoughts of the past, Snape pushed open the gate, stepped through and then shut it with a loud clang which echoed throughout the silent street.

The door to the house was black, though the paint was peeling. There was no visible lock on the door, owing to an enchantment being placed on it, ensuring that only Snape himself could open it.

As he approached the door, a car drove by with its headlights on. For a moment the lights reflected in the ornate door knocker that was situated right in the middle of the door. For reasons unknown to Snape, whoever had chosen to place a door knocker on the door had chosen one with a rather gargoyle-like design.

Maybe it was just a trick from the way the car lights had reflected on the silver knocker, or maybe Snape had just been thinking of his old room-mates too much, but for a fleeting moment he rather struck by just how much the knocker looked like the long deceased Evan Rosier.

Trying to ignore what had surely been a trick of his eyes, Snape stepped up onto the doorstep and reached for the door handle. But even as he did so his gaze was drawn back to the knocker.

Sure enough, there was a face looking back at him. A silvery, spectral face that he recognised as…

"Evan Rosier?" he asked in a disbelieving whisper.

In response the ghostly face opened its mouth wide, unnaturally wide, and let out a deafening yell.

Severus Snape prided himself on not being easily startled, but the response had been so unexpected that he took a panicked step backwards without focusing on just where he was putting his feet. As a result his left foot slipped off the edge of the step and he went crashing down on his back, his head bouncing off the concrete path.

It took a few moments for his vision to right itself. Then, wincing slightly, Snape was able to force himself to sit up. Other than the bump on the back of his head, there was no harm done by the fall. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up to check them, but he had even avoided grazing them.

Then he remembered the reason for his fall and, lowering his hands, he looked back up at the door.

There was nothing there. The knocker was exactly as it should be, without a ghostly face to be seen.

Snape shook his head. Clearly the pressures of answering to both Lord Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore, as well as maintaining his usual teaching duties were beginning to get to him. What he needed was a good rest.

* * *

As the night went on, the temperature got a lot colder. By ten thirty the windscreens and roofs of any cars parked out in the open were beginning to ice over.

Inside his house, Snape had lit a fire in the hearth and now sat beside it in a high-backed chair which was upholstered in worn leather. To one side of the chair there sat a small wooden table, on which Snape had placed a large, steaming bowl of onion soup and a toasted bread roll, both of which were charmed to remain warm. Snape himself had changed out of his day ware and now wore a pair of black pyjamas, with a black dressing gown over the top.

He was reading a large tome titled _Moste Potente Potions_ in order to pass the time. The only sounds to be heard within the house were Snape's steady breathing, the crackling of the fire and the occasional turning of a page.

For some reason, above the door to the living room where Snape now sat, there was a bell made of brass. It was about the size of the palm of Snape's hand and, as far as he knew, it served no purpose. He did not know why the bell had been placed there, or if it had ever had a particular use. It was just one of those things about the house that had been that way for as long as he could remember. Not once had he ever heard it ring.

So you can probably imagine his confusion when the silence was interrupted by one single _ding_ of the bell. Knowing of only one thing within the house that could ever produce such a sound, Snape leaned around the high back of his chair to look at the bell.

It wasn't moving.

Deciding that he must have been someone outside, walking back home after playing in the brass band, Snape went back to his book. Until…

 _Ding-a-ling-a-ling!_ Went the bell.

Snape turned again and saw that the bell was indeed moving, though it stopped within moments of his eyes locking on to it.

He scowled and reached for the pocket of his dressing gown in order to grab his wand, only to find that his wand wasn't there. Cursing himself, he realised that he must have left it in the pocket of his day robes.

 _Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling!_ Went the bell, this time with so much force that Snape thought it might actually wrench itself off of the wall and clatter to the floor.

Suddenly the flames flickering in the sconces on the walls around the room went out, the bell stopped ringing and the fire in the hearth dimmed low and went out.

Now the only light to see by was that produced by the street lamp outside, though not much of that was making its way through curtains that were closed over the window.

Then there came another sound, one that Snape only heard that one time he had managed to hit James Potter with a spell that caused him to be bound in a chain while they were back at Hogwarts. Unless Severus Snape was very much mistaken, the sound he could hear was the sound of chains being dragged across the floor.

Worse, the sound was coming from upstairs!

As Snape listened, he heard the chains drag along the floor of the room immediately above him, the room that had once belonged to Rosier. He heard the squeak of a door opening and then the sound of the chains being dragged along the landing before they clattered with much jangling down the staircase.

Snape was talented in many areas of magic, but wandless apparition was not one of them. Instead he got out of his chair and stood in the small alcove beside the fireplace, hoping that the absence of light within the room, coupled with his dark attire would keep him hidden.

For almost a minute nothing happened. Cautiously, Snape leaned forward and looked at the door. To his horror the brass handle was turning slightly as whatever it was that was out in the hall tried to get into the room.

Severus Snape could barely recall a time when he had ever felt so defenceless, though watching his drunken father strike his mother in the days before Snape had ever owned a wand was very much up there with this experience.

To Snape's relief the handle stopped moving, allowing him to silently hope that whatever it was that lurked beyond the door would give up and leave the house altogether. But after a brief moment, that hope was lost when, without doing even the slightest bit of noticeable damage to the door, a chain flew through it and crashed to the floor.

Snape looked down in horror. The chain, though obviously made of wrought iron, was partially see-through and an eerie, pale green light emanated from it, bathing the room in a sickly glow. And on the very end of the chain, there was a human skull!

A second chain flew through the door, this one attached to an entire rib cage while a third one was attached to a column of vertebral bones and a forth ended in the bones of a forearm and hand, complete with five skeletal fingers.

Perhaps a dozen more chains followed, some ending in bones, others not. But the worst of all was what was on the other end of those chains.

Living in the magical world, Severus Snape was well accustomed to the sight of ghosts, especially as he worked year round in Hogwarts Castle which contained many of the spectral entities.

However, ghosts usually took the form of someone as they were in life. Were it not for their transparency and silvery pallor, one could mistake a ghost as still being alive.

There was nothing about this ghost that looked like it might be alive. Instead it looked for all the world like a corpse that had been in the ground for a year or so. Its skin was peeling from the flesh and bone beneath, one of the eyes was missing and clumps of hair had fallen out. The skin around the face had tightened to expose the skull beneath while there was a hole where its nose should be, and the jaw hung open loosely.

But despite all of this, Snape recognised the face of the spectre. There was no mistaking it.

"Evan Rosier…" he breathed.

The head turned towards Snape's dark alcove and the single eye spun in its socket to focus on the man in question.

"Severus Snape…" the ghost said through it slack jaw. "It has indeed been a long time."

Knowing that there was no sense in continuing to try to hide, Snape stepped out of the shadows.

As stated before, Severus Snape was used to the sight of ghosts, so rather than asking "How?" like most muggles would, he instead asked "What are you doing here?"

If Rosier did not have a slackened jaw, he would have smiled in response to that question. "I have come for you, my old friend," the spirit replied.

"And what do you want with me?" queried Snape, edging to his right. Already a plan was formulating in his head, a plan to keep the spirit talking, distracting it whilst Snape moved slowly around the room towards the door.

It wasn't a very good plan, but it was all he had.

Rosier raised himself up, his toes now hanging several feet above the floor. The chains rattled as they moved and, looking down, Snape saw that the ends were moving of their own free will, all of them towards him. The skull hopped as if it were a frog. The vertebral column and the ribcage writhed about and the hand used it fingers to drag itself forward.

"You have noticed the chains, I see," said Rosier. He reached down and grasped several links of each chain and pulled them back, dragging the skeletal endings away from Snape.

"What are they?" demanded Snape, watching as several of the chains coiled and writhed like serpents.

"Everyone has them, Severus," answered the spirit. "You make them as you go through life. Every misdeed, every sin adds more links to each chain."

He grasped one chain in a scabby, rotten hand and held it up. "This chain reflects every lie I ever told. Every lie resulted in one further link."

He dropped that chain and snatched up another. "This one added links every time I could have helped someone in need but instead chose not to."

Then he took hold of a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. "Thievery, Dark Magic and Spite," he said, dropping each chain in turn as he named them.

"And the ones with bones at the end?" asked Snape, for the one's Rosier had named so far had not had bones affixed to the end of the line.

"Murders," answered Rosier. "Every death by my hand left me with a chain of a thousand links each."

Snape looked down again and noticed that, in addition to the ones ending in the hand, the skull, the ribcage and the vertebral column, there were at least ten other chains ending in bones. Were he in the right mind to think about it, Snape would have agreed that fourteen murders while in the service of the Dark Lord sounded about right for Rosier.

"In death we are doomed, Severus. Doomed to wander the earth, dragging with us the chains we make in life. No one goes through life without creating a chain for themselves, but in some these chains are longer than others, while others still develop more chains than the rest. As you can see, I myself acquired a rather substantial collection despite only existing within the realm of the living for twenty one years."

Rosier picked up one of the chains and held it out towards Snape. "Only good deeds done can shrink the chains while we live. Once we are dead, we must suffer to reduce these lengths to nothing. One lunar cycle we must endure, one lunar cycle we must drag our chains, one lunar cycle we must see all that is wrong in the world and be unable to help. "

He raised the chain higher so that it was right in front of Snape's face. "One lunar cycle of suffering to remove one single link."

Snape blanched. Why, the chains for the murders alone condemned Rosier to fourteen thousand lunar cycles' worth of suffering. That equated to well over a thousand years. Together with the other chains, Snape would estimate that Rosier had accrued over fifteen hundred years of condemnation.

Unable to think of anything else to say, Snape went with a rather foolish sounding "Well, thank you for informing me."

Suddenly Rosier shot forward, forcing Snape to back up against the wall and turn his face in revulsion as the decaying face of his deceased friend invaded his personal space.

"You have accumulated your own chains as well Severus. On the night I died, your chains were of a similar length to mine. Imagine how much longer they must have become in the fifteen years since?"

"Why do you tell me this?" demanded Snape. "Do you seek to torture me?"

"I seek only to warn you Severus, and to help you."

"Help me?" spat Snape, incredulously. "Why would you help me?"

"There are higher powers at work, my friend. Powers of which I am not permitted to speak, powers that I am not at liberty to understand. They see the way that the world is going and do not like the look of the future. They see that you have a part to play in the forming of the future and seek to use you to nudge events in a more preferable direction."

"Why me?"

"Because of your position. Because of who you are, the man with a foot in two different camps, both of which have the potential to lead to a ruinous future."

Rosier drew back from Snape and continued "You were given a second chance, Severus. A chance to do what is right, and heal some of the hurt caused in the world, but you have not taken it. Instead you have squandered it in the service of a madman who sacrifices his followers in the name of a greater good that only he believes in, a man who would send ten thousand men to their deaths in order to keep a secret a secret."

Snape thought for a brief moment, and his thoughts landed on just one name.

"Dumbledore?"

"Your mind has become clouded, Severus. You do not see things as clearly as you once did. You need to see things. Things that were, things that are, things that may one day come to pass if things continue as they are."

"I have not the power to enable you to see what you need to see but there are others who can. Tonight you will be visited by three other spirits, spirits of the Christmas season. They will help you see."

"I'd rather not," replied Snape.

Suddenly Rosier's face became malicious. He made a swiping motion with his hand and a chain shot forward to latch itself around Snape's left forearm.

"You have no choice in this, Severus," the spectre snarled.

Snape wrenched his arm free and bolted for the door, even as other chains rose to strike him.

As Snape barrelled through the door of the living room, two chains lashed at his back while a third attempted without luck to coil around his torso.

Snape jerked out of the way of the reach of the chains and then turned to make for the front door, only to immediately halt at the sight before him. The entire hallway, from the spot where he was standing to the front door, was blocked by line after line of ethereal chains, all of which rattled threatening as a human shaped spectre rose out of the ground.

Snape recognised him immediately as Rosier's fallen comrade, Wilkes.

"These chains are heavy, Severus." spoke the newcomer. "Without redemption you are doomed to a suffering longer than ours."

Snape backed away, straight into a tangle of chains which tried to grab him.

"You have no choice in this, Severus," Rosier repeated as he drifted out of the living room door.

Snape undid the chord of his dressing gown and slipped his arms out of the sleeves. The chains quickly began coiling around the piece of clothing while Snape made for the stairs, two chains striking towards his feet.

As he began climbing the stairs Snape noticed two more spectres, these ones blocking the way to the kitchen and the cloakroom. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognised these men too; one was the father of Rosier and the other was the father of Avery, both of them were Death Eaters whom had been killed in action.

Now Snape had only one thing on his mind – get to his bedroom, find his wand and disapparate.

But he was already surrounded. At the top of the stairs he was met by the spectres of Barty Crouch Jr, Abraxas Malfoy and the father of the Lestrange brothers. He forced his way past them and turned onto the landing. At the far end he could make out the spirits of yet more deceased Death Eaters, Mulciber's father at their head.

Snape threw himself at the door to his bedroom and ran straight into a collection of chains and skeletal limbs, all of which began latching onto him, the chains wrapping around his limbs like pythons constricting their prey.

"Can you feel them, Severus?" asked Rosier as he and the other spectres entered the room. "Can you feel their weight? Can you feel the cold bite of metal against your skin?"

One chain had coiled itself so tightly around Snape's throat that a verbal response was impossible, forcing Snape to settle for giving a barely noticeable nod of his head.

"This is only a taste of what awaits you if you flee now," said Rosier. "Your chance, your hope of escaping a fate worse than ours is available to you only for tonight. Take that chance Severus, or end up like us."

Rosier drew back from Snape as the Death Eaters Snape had already seen, plus around twenty more crowded around. Snape looked upon them and knew fear. Each of them was bound with seemingly innumerable chains of great length. Each of them wore haunted and haggard expressions; they were all weary but doomed to not find peace for many hundreds of years to come.

"Will you meet with the spirits?"

Shakily Snape nodded and the chains around his throat eased up enough for him to mutter "I will."

All chains that had coiled around him went slack and fell to the floor with a mighty clatter before they and the spectres they were attached to began to fade out of sight.

"Expect the first spirit when the bell tolls one," explained Rosier. "Expect the second spirit when the bell tolls two. And expect the third when the bell tolls three."

They were gone.

Snape sank to his knees, trembling with fear, trying yet failing to pull himself together. He had never been more scared in his life.

* * *

 **Well, that's the start of it. I hope you enjoyed it. More should be on the way soon, though I do not yet know if the three spirits will take up one chapter or if there will be a chapter for each.**

 **Merry Christmas!**


	2. Stave Two: The Ghost of Christmas Past

**Stave Two: The Ghost of Christmas Past**

Severus Snape had fallen into an uneasy sleep. In the aftermath of the visit from multiple deceased Death Eaters he had tried to find his wand but had failed in the endeavour. The shock of the night's events accompanied that his wand was very much missing, leaving him, for all intents and purposes, defenceless, had resulted in the potions master sinking down onto his bed in a strange kind of stupor.

Some when after that he had fallen asleep, though his dreams were tormented ones.

Finally he awoke to the chiming of the clock on his bedroom wall.

 _Midnight_.

Snape sat up and looked around his room. There was nothing there. He was entirely alone.

But the visit from Rosier and his companions weighed heavily upon Snape's mind. He had been told to expect another visitor from the spirit realm at one o'clock in the morning, so there was no way that Snape was going to be able to get back to sleep now.

The black curtains which hung in front of Snape's bedroom window were not closed together tightly enough, meaning that they allowed a dim beam of light from the street lamp outside to filter into the room. The light landed on the clock on the wall, allowing Snape to see the hands.

Silently he watched the hands move around. Never had an hour seemed to pass so slowly.

 _Quarter past._

Snape began to muse that maybe the experience would not be too bad. After all, they just wanted to show him a few memories of things that had happened in the past, and he had viewed memories in pensieves before. Then, after getting that information, they would tell him what needed to be done and he would do it. The task they had in mind for him could not possibly be harder than what Dumbledore expected of him after all.

 _Half past._

Snape didn't know why he was even thinking of what the spirits were going to ask of him because everything that he had seen surely could not have happened. After all, if Rosier really was a ghost, why did it take him fifteen years to show himself to Snape?

No, the whole thing was obviously a prank. Black and Lupin must have gotten into his house somehow and put some sort of hallucinogenic potion into his store of onion soup. He regretted giving in to Dumbledore's demands and allowing his home to be accessed via the floo network from Order Headquarters.

Yes, Lupin and Black. It had to be them. Nothing else made sense.

 _Quarter to._

Snape got out of bed. He needed to find his wand and then apparate as far away as possible. He could not apparate abroad as he had never been abroad, but maybe he could get himself to Platform 7 ½ at Kings Cross Station. That was where a Wizarding express train set off for destinations throughout continental Europe. Snape did have some galleons on him so he could probably get as far as France. Maybe.

He paused. Would the train even be running at this time of night, especially given the time of year?

 _One o'clock._

The bell chimed once signalling the hour and Snape froze in place.

For a brief moment there was nothing and for that brief moment Snape thought that he had been worrying about nothing.

Then, all of a sudden, his bedroom was lit up with an intensely bright light. Snape spun to face the source but immediately had to shield his eyes from the power of the light. But then the glow dimmed a little, allowing him to lower his arms.

The source of the light, he was stunned to see, was a child that was perhaps no older than eight. It had a pale, round face and long golden hair that flowed in continuous waves, swaying in an unseen wind. It (and I say ' _it'_ because there was little to suggest a true gender) was clothed in a simple white robe which trailed downwards and hid its feet from view.

Gathering what little courage he could muster Snape asked "Are you one of the spirits whose coming was foretold to me by Evan Rosier?"

The face broke out into a smile at being recognised and replied "I am."

"Who are you?" queried Snape.

"I am the ghost of Christmas Past."

"Really? But you look so young."

The ghost tilted its head to the side as is regarding Snape before answering. "I can remember every Christmas that has happened in the last one thousand nine hundred and ninety four years. Now, come with me. I have much to show you."

The spirit floated closer to Snape and he was surprised to see that although the face had appeared youthful from a distance, up close it was wrinkled and ancient looking.

"Uh…" said Snape, eloquently. "The thing is, spirit… I am not sure that I want to do this."

"Oh, but you must," replied the spirit and, despite how old its face now appeared to be, the voice remained as youthful as before. "Come along."

And without giving Snape another moment to protest, the spirit reached down and touched Snape's arm with its own.

The sensation that followed was very similar to that which accompanied travelling by portkey. The world swirled rapidly around them, blurring beyond recognition as Snape was practically dragged along by the spirit who seemed to be guiding the way to their destination.

The trip seemed to last longer than any portkey trip Snape had ever taken and Snape was just beginning to wonder when it was going to end when it did.

* * *

They were no longer inside Snape's house, but they were still in the town of Cokeworth, albeit they were standing on a rooftop. The sun was out, the sky was blue and a thick blanket of snow, at least three feet deep covered rooftops, gardens and the road.

Using his high vantage point, Snape looked around. They were not far from Spinner's End. In fact he could make out his own house easily, though he had trouble believing it at first. Spinner's End and the neighbouring streets had not looked that well presented in nearly thirty years.

This much alone told Snape that the spirit had taken them back in time, but hammering that point home was the fact that Cokeworth was a lot smaller. From his vantage point Snape could see all sides of the town and out to the open areas beyond. The fields had not been built on yet, the bypass road had not carved a tarmac scar on the landscape and the lake to the south had not been drained and concreted over for that industrial business park that the mayor of Cokeworth had insisted would attract business and revitalise the town (it hadn't, but that's not really important for this story!)

"When are we, spirit?" he asked, warily.

"This is Christmas Day, twenty six years ago," replied the spirit, brightly.

"Why have you brought me here?"

"Look," said the Spirit, waving her hand towards the street below.

Snape stepped closer to the edge of the roof and looked down. There were children there, at least ten of them, kicking snow, pushing each other on sleds, laughing, talking, and comparing what they had each gotten for Christmas.

And there, right in the middle was a head of long, flowing red hair.

"Lily…" Snape whispered his throat clenching.

One of the other girls had fallen off of a sled belonging to one of the boys and Lily was crouched down beside her, wrapping a handkerchief around the girl's grazed knee.

"There," said Lily brightly once the knot was secure. "All better now."

"Thank you Lily," said the other girl with a little sniff, for she had been crying.

"Such a kind and thoughtful girl," said the Spirit.

"Yes, she was…" answered Snape.

"Hey, everyone," said one of the boys loudly "Let's go over to the lake!"

All the other children agreed and began to hurry towards the lake, Lily taking the other girl by the hand as they went.

"They seem like a really close group," observed the Spirit.

"They were," said Snape. "They all went to the same school. They were all in the same class."

"But there is another child here, the same age as them. Look."

The Spirit pointed towards the shadowy lane between the grocers shop and the library. Snape looked and was surprised to see his nine year old self stepping out of the shadows and into the street, staring after the group that had just run off. Quickly, yet silently, younger Snape hurried after them.

"Come on," said the Spirit, taking Snape's hand once again. "Let's follow too."

They drifted from rooftop to rooftop, watching Snape's younger self as he followed the other children towards the lake. The younger Snape did his best to remain in the shadows so as to avoid detection.

Before long they came to the lake. It was frozen over, all the reeds had died back and the weeping willows had lost all of their leaves. The snow was thick here too. A snowball fight quickly started up along the bank of the lake and soon the air was filled with the sounds of joyous laughter and shouting.

Suddenly the girl who had grazed her knee called out "Hey, who is that, watching us?"

Several of the kids turned around, as did Snape and the Spirit, just in time to see the younger Snape ducking behind a pile of snow.

"Isn't it that the weird kid who lives down on Spinner's End?" asked one of the boys.

"His name is Severus," protested Lily. "And he's not weird, he's shy."

As Snape and the Spirit watched, Lily approached the snow pile and coaxed the younger Snape out from behind it. "Don't worry, Sev," she said, he tone as cheerful as ever. "They aren't going to bite you."

Younger Snape clearly had his doubts about that, but Lily had a firm grip of his wrist to as to prevent his escape.

The moment the pair were close enough, a snowball sailed through the air and struck younger Snape on the chest, prompting a gasp from Lily as younger Snape froze on the spot.

"Well?" demanded one of the boys. "What's the matter kid? Aren't you going to throw one back?"

Lily broke out into a smile and said "See, Sev? They just want you to join in with our snowball fight."

Younger Snape shifted awkwardly and said "I don't know how to make a snowball."

"Oh, it's easy!" said Lily. "Come on, I'll show you."

Before long younger the snowball fight had begun again and younger Snape was laughing and shouting with all the others. One of the other boys even complimented younger Snape on his aim.

"She would never let anybody sit out on their own, would she?" observed the Spirit.

"No," replied Snape. "I never had a friend before her and now, just three months later she made this happen. I had never felt more _… included_ … in my life."

"I believe I sense a shadow on the horizon," observed the Spirit. Snape turned to it and saw that it was pointing down the street which the children had walked through in order to get to the lake.

Looking there, Snape saw a figure hurrying towards the children. She was a few years older than the others and with a start Snape realised that it was Petunia Evans, Lily's older sister.

Suddenly he recalled how this ended and turned to his companion. "Spirit, I beg you, do not allow this to continue. I wish to see no more of this day."

The Spirit turned its head to the side but said nothing. That action was beginning to remind Snape of one of the fourth year Ravenclaw girls who consistently insisted on adding strange ingredients into the potions she made as a part of her lessons with him. Infuriatingly, no matter how many dirigible plums of moon frog tears she insisted on adding, Luna Lovegood had never had a potion go disastrously wrong, something which gave her no reason to ever believe Snape when he told her not do what she insisted on doing.

The girl was maddening!

"Lily!" Petunia's voice shouted, breaking off Snape's internal rant about infuriating Ravenclaws and causing the snowball fight to come to a grinding halt. "Mum's just dishing up Christmas dinner!"

"Okay!" Lily called back, dropping the snowball that was in her hand. "Bye, everyone!"

"See you Lily," said the girl with the grazed knee.

"Bye Lils," said one of the boys.

Snape was not paying attention to them though. He was paying attention to his younger self who was slightly off to the side and not immediately within Petunia's line of sight. As Snape watched, his younger self rolled up snowball and then found a stone which he pushed into the side of the snowball.

Snap dearly wanted to prevent what happened next, but he had enough experience of pensieves to know that nothing he did now could even slightly alter the events of the past.

The snowball sailed through the air and smacked Petunia in the side of the face. The girl in question let out a scream of pain and dropped to her knees as she brought her hands up to the side of her face.

Younger Snape laughed, but he was the only one.

Lily hurried over to her sister and pulled her gloved hand away to reveal blood. The stone had left Petunia with a nasty cut on her right cheek.

Snape's laugh had alerted everyone else as to exactly who had thrown that snowball, causing one of the boys to turn to him and demand "What the hell do you think you're doing you idiot?"

Younger Snape tried to back-pedal. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "I didn't realise that there was a stone in there, honest."

The other children clearly did not believe him. Younger Snape looked to Lily for help, but her only concern in that moment was her sister. As Lily began guiding Petunia home, the other children turned on Snape, pelting him with snowball after snowball, forcing him to turn and flee.

"Yeah, you better run!" yelled one of the girls.

"And don't come back!" added one of the boys. He was the tallest and strongest of the group, and therefore was the best at throwing snowballs. The last one he threw sailed through the air and smacked the rapidly retreating younger Snape right on the back of the head.

Younger Snape fell over, face first into the snow but quickly scrambled away, the taunts and jeers of the other children ringing in his ears.

"Why did you do that, Severus?" asked the Spirit.

"In truth, I do not know," replied Snape, watching as the other children gave up their games and began heading to their respective homes.

"You hate Petunia, don't you?" asked the Spirit. "You resented that she had any sort of bond with Lily and were determined to drive a wedge between them."

"No," protested Snape. "I never wanted that."

The Spirit regarded him with another tilt of is head before taking his hand once again.

The world spun like before but this time it only lasted two seconds. Looking around Snape saw that they were still in Cokeworth, though they were much closer to the Weeping Willows now than they had been. He quickly spotted his younger self sitting at the foot of the largest of the willow trees, a forlorn expression on his face and his knees tucked up beneath his chin.

Quite suddenly the silence of the moment was broken by a clearly furious Lily Evans as she stormed towards the scene.

"You idiot!" she shouted at him. "What the hell were you thinking, throwing a snowball with a stone in it at my sister?"

"I-I didn't mean to," the younger Snape tried to protest, but Lily was having none of it.

"Don't lie, Sev! I know you hate my sister. I know you knew that stone was in there. Why did you do it."

"I didn't…" younger Snape tried.

"Do you know where I spent yesterday, Sev? I was supposed to have Christmas dinner with my family and then spend the afternoon with my aunt, uncle and cousins at their house, but do you know where I went because of you?"

"Where?" asked younger Snape in a small voice.

"In the hospital!" snarled Lily. "Instead of my family all getting together and having a nice time we had to abandon our dinner and take Petunia to the hospital so a doctor could have a look at the cut on her face which YOU CAUSED! She needed seven stitches! She hasn't stopped crying in hours! You ruined Christmas!"

"I'm sorry," protested the younger Snape, but he really didn't sound it.

"Why did you do it?" demanded Lily. "Why do you hate my sister?"

"I don't-"

"Yes you do. I know you do. I just don't know why."

"What do you even need a sister for anyway?" demanded the younger Snape, saying exactly the wrong thing.

Lily's anger was so extreme that it was a wonder that she didn't release a burst of accidental magic.

" _What do I need a sister for?_ " she repeated, disbelievingly. "I love my sister, Sev. She's my best friend."

"But what about me?" asked the younger Snape. "She's not special like us. Remember?"

He held out his hand to her and a small flower grew there, a daisy with a yellow centre and white petals.

Lily glared at his hand and the piece of magic being conjured there. She said no more, but smacked his hand away, turned on her heel and stormed off.

Younger Snape watched her go before sinking back to the ground again, leaning his head back against the trunk of the big willow tree. Next to him, the conjured daisy withered and turned to dust.

"She didn't speak to me for nearly two whole months after this," noted Snape, sadly.

"Surely you don't find that to be a surprise, Severus," said the Spirit. "You put her sister in hospital. You as good as said that her sister didn't matter. That she didn't need a sister."

Snape looked down at his younger self, who was now scowling at a robin as it hopped about on the surface of the snow.

"This was your first warning from her," said the Spirit, breaking the silence. "Lily would not tolerate this attitude from you. Her anger here should have shown you that. But this wasn't the last time such an incident occurred, was it?"

Snape turned to the Spirit. "Please, I do not wish to see those memories."

"I am tied to the days surrounding Christmas," replied the Spirit. "None of your other actions against Petunia ever happened on those days so I cannot show you them, but you would do well to consider those events as much as you now have this one."

"I do, however, know of another memory that you need to see. A memory of this sort of behaviour on your part, but directed at someone else."

The Spirit held out its hand and, with no small amount of reluctance, Snape took it.

* * *

When the world stopped spinning, Snape found himself standing in Hogwarts, though the castle was largely deserted. It was night outside and snow was resting against the lower parts of the windows. By the smell of mulled wine, minced pies and pine needles, it was clearly near Christmas here too.

"Why are we here?" asked Snape.

"This is seven years later," was all that the Spirit said.

Working it out quickly in his head, Snape realised that this meant they were standing in Hogwarts during his fifth year at the school.

"Go on Rosier!" shouted a voice. "Bet you don't make it all the way down."

Snape turned towards a nearby staircase to see a group of boys standing at the top. The boy who had spoken was Mulciber.

"You're on," said Rosier, who promptly approached the handrail of the staircase, slid his left leg over it and then slid the whole way down, backwards. Mulciber followed him down while Avery and Wilkes mirrored their actions on the opposite handrail.

"My old dorm mates," Snape said, under his breath as Mulciber, Rosier, Avery and Wilkes surrounded him without even seeing him.

"And where are you?" asked the Spirit.

Before Snape could answer, Mulciber did it for him. "Come on Snape! While we're young."

At the top of the stairs a fifteen year old Snape appeared, a thick book on the Dark Arts lodged under his arm.

"I'd rather use my feet, Mulciber, if you don't mind," retorted the fifteen year old as he began walking down the stairs.

"Oh, get over yourself Snape," said Mulciber as he drew his wand. He made a jabbing motion towards the stairs and incanted " _Glisseo!_ "

The stairs beneath the younger Snape's feet flatted out to form some sort of slide. This caused his feet to slip out from underneath him and the fell onto his back as he slid all the way down before he and his book came to a stop at Mulciber's feet.

"Have fun?" asked Mulciber as the others laughed. Younger Snape quickly began to laugh with them.

Older Snape chuckled, earning another one of those tilted head looks from his ghostly companion.

"It's just a bit of fun," said Snape in defence of his friends.

"If you say so." replied the Spirit.

"Hey!" said Wilkes. "Hey, check it out guys. Look who's been doing some studying in the library."

Snape, the Spirit, Snape's younger self and the other boys looked to where Wilkes was indicating and they saw a girl of about the same age as the gang of Slytherin boys. Her curly black hair was being kept out of her face by a red headband that had two pieces of holly in it and she had a schoolbag slung over her shoulder that was almost ready to tear apart at the seams from the amount of books contained within. From the badge on the front of her robes and the colour of her tie it was clear that this girl was a Gryffindor.

Snape recognised her as being Mary Macdonald, Lily's dorm mate and one of her closest friends. She hadn't noticed the gathering of Slytherin boys.

"Damn, Macdonald's got a fine ass on her," said Avery.

Wilkes snorted. "Yeah, like you'd ever have a chance with her. She's more uptight than McGonagall."

"That's not the way I heard it," said Rosier. "From what I heard, Sirius Black's tapping that, and I don't much fancy his sloppy seconds."

Snape snorted in disgust. "Black's all talk, just like that prat Potter. You should know that by now Rosier. Anyway, she's nothing but a mudblood."

"Mudbloods' gotta be good for _something_ Snape," said Mulciber. "Come on lads – we'll have us some fun for Christmas Eve. My treat."

"How?" asked Avery.

"Watch and learn, boy's," said Mulciber, raising his wand. "Watch and learn."

He flicked his wand and a flash of light left the tip. A second later one of the over stressed seams of Mary's bag gave up and tore open, spilling several books, quills and inkpots onto the floor.

Mary cursed and crouched down to gather up the contents of her bag, an action that caused her robes to even better reveal just how shapely her rear was.

Mulciber smirked and began hurrying forward as quietly as he could, whispering "Come on, lads."

Quickly and quietly the group snuck up on the Gryffindor girl who didn't even notice they were there until Mulciber said loudly "Hello, Macdonald."

She yelped in surprise and got to her feet, clutching several books to her chest. Her rather ample chest.

"What do you want, Mulciber?" she demanded, clearly on edge.

Mulciber smirked. "Can't a guy just say hello to a girl anymore?"

"You can't, no," replied Mary.

"Oh, don't be like that," said Mulciber, reaching up to caress her cheek with his hand, causing her to recoil from him. "We just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

"Get the hell away from me," hissed Mary, turning from Mulciber and shoving her way past the leering faces of Wilkes and Rosier.

"I don't think so," said Mulciber, raising his wand. " _Imperio._ "

Mary stopped moving.

Quickly Mulciber began dishing out orders. "Rosier, Wilkes, grab her and follow me. Snape, Avery, clear up this mess so no one gets suspicious. Then meet us in classroom 3B."

Younger Snape and Avery exchanged looks before setting about gathering the last of Mary's thinks and vanishing the smashed glass and spilt ink while Rosier and Wilkes frogmarched their victim along the corridor with Mulciber leading the way.

"What a pleasant group of boys they are," said the Spirit.

"I'd really rather not see the rest of this," said Snape.

"Tough," replied the Spirit.

Younger Snape and Avery finished clearing up and then hurried along the corridor in search of their friends, Mary Macdonald's possessions in their arms.

They quickly arrived at classroom 3B where they dumped Mary's stuff onto a table before turning to face the others in the room. The show had already started.

Mulciber was sitting on the teacher's desk with a lecherous grin on his face. Rosier was leaning against a student table and Wilkes was sitting on one of the chairs. The three were positioned in a triangle and in the middle was Mary. She had already taken off her robe and was pulling off her jumper as her hips gyrated to inaudible music.

"Oh fuck yeah!" said Avery, a little too loudly.

For that, Mulciber assigned him guard duty while Snape was encouraged to take a seat and enjoy the show.

"Isn't this girl meant to be a friend of Lily's?" asked the Spirit. "Why do you do nothing to help her?"

"It was only meant to be a bit of fun," protested Snape, though the words were said without conviction. It had been his excuse at the time, but now…

Before long the imperiused Mary Macdonald was down to her underwear and Mulciber decided that it was time to change things up. He ordered Mary to get onto her knees in front of him and she did not without question as he began to pull open his robes.

"Now," he said. "Why don't you be a good little mudblood and suck my-"

At that moment Avery burst into the room.

"McGonagall!" he hissed loudly.

"Shit!" cursed Mulciber, pushing Mary away from himself. "Put your robe back on!" he told her before looking at his friends "Come on. Let's get out of here."

As a last second thought, Mulciber used his wand to cancel the imperius curse as Mary was pulling her robe on. Then he, Rosier, Avery and Wilkes barrelled out of the room and straight into McGonagall.

Snape, on the other hand, had better luck. He had been pushed to the side by Wilkes and as such was hidden behind the door when it was opened, allowing him to avoid being seen by McGonagall. As the strict Transfiguration Professor began laying into the four boys, Snape snuck around the room and hid beneath the teacher's desk.

And not a moment too soon. Snape had just disappeared under the desk when McGonagall managed to force her way into the room. Upon catching sight of the state that one of her Gryffindor's was in her temper went through the roof. The boys lost a solid two hundred house points each and were told that they were all going to be expelled.

Her shouting drew the attention of Professor Flitwick who was just as angry once McGonagall had brought him up to speed. The difference was that, unlike McGonagall who got very loud when she was angry, Flitwick became quiet so that you could barely hear his voice. However there was no mistaking his anger and the four boys were in fact relieved when Flitwick offered to take Mary for a check over in the Hospital Wing rather than escort them to Dumbledore's office.

Once they had all left the classroom, Snape slipped out from underneath the desk to listen at the door before making good his escape."

"Some friends they were," said the Spirit.

"Say what you like, they didn't tell anyone I was here too." replied Snape.

"It's just as well they did keep quiet, or else what I am about to show you next would have happened quite differently."

The scene changed and they were now standing in the Transfiguration Courtyard. Fifteen year old Snape and a fifteen year old Lily Evans were arguing as they walked across it.

 **[Note: This part is taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows]**

"… _ **thought we were supposed to be friends?" Snape was saying. "Best friends?"**_

" _ **We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging around with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber.**_ **Mulciber** _ **! What do you see in him, Sev? He's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"**_

 _ **Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up into the thin, sallow face.**_

" _ **That was nothing," said Snape. "It was a laugh, that's all-"**_

" _ **It was Dark Magic, and if you think that's funny-"**_

" _ **What about the stuff Potter and his mates get up to?" demanded Snape. His colour rose as he said it, unable, it seemed, to hold in his resentment.**_

" _ **What's Potter got to do with anything?"**_

"Yes," agreed the Spirit. "What did James Potter have to do with this, Severus? He and his friends might have been pranksters, but what Mulciber was preparing to do was pure evil."

"You don't know Potter like I do," replied Snape.

"You didn't know him at all," said the Spirit. "You only think you did. If you did know him, then you would know that he and Mulciber are nothing like each other, that there is a stark difference between what they did and why."

"What do you mean?" asked Snape.

"Consider this," said the Spirit. When you were at Hogwarts, Wizarding Britain was in the grip of a civil war. Spirits were low. People were afraid. People like your friend Mulciber went around spreading fear and terror wherever they could and largely got away with it. I know Dumbledore stepped in and refused allow your friends to be expelled for the stunt we just saw them pull.

"Your friends were pretty indiscriminate as to who they picked on. Mudbloods, blood-traitors, it was all the same to them. Who did James Potter pick on?"

"It's hardly the same-" began Snape.

"Mulciber." said the Spirit, interrupting him. "James Potter picked on Mulciber. He picked on Avery. He picked on Rosier, Wilkes, Malfoy, Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Flint, Pucey, Montague, Gibbon and Pyrites. He picked on you. James Potter and Sirius Black liked nothing more than to pick up their wands and torment the tormentors. That broke people out of their fear."

"Still-" Snape tried.

"It's a curious thing," said the Spirit. "You join Mulciber in his use of the Imperius curse to rob Mary Macdonald of her own free will and to you that is just a bit of a laugh. James Potter lifts you into the air by your ankle and suddenly no other human being in the history of the world has ever suffered so much."

Snape was rapidly getting the feeling that the Spirit did not like him much.

He turned back to the conversation that was happening nearby.

 _ **Snape's bitterness and dislike were rendering him incoherent, and Lily's eyebrows were traveling further and further up her forehead.**_

" _ **I know James Potter's an arrogant toerag," she said, cutting across Snape. "I don't need you to tell me that. But Mulciber and Avery's idea of humour is just evil.**_ **Evil** _ **, Sev. I don't understand how you can be friends with them.**_

It was doubtful that the younger _**Snape had even heard her strictures on Mulciber and Avery. The moment she had insulted James Potter his whole body had relaxed and as they walked away there was a new spring in**_ his _ **step.**_

The Spirit shook its head. "This was her final warning, Snape, and you missed it."

Snape said nothing, but knew that the Spirit was right. Just five months after this conversation he had snapped at Lily in a moment of frustration. No amount of apologising got her to reverse her decision to end their friendship.

"This isn't the last we shall see of Mary Macdonald. There is one more event that features her. Come on."

With that, the Spirit placed its hand on Snape's shoulder and the world spun around them again.

* * *

The village hall was alive with the sounds of shouts and cheers and music when Snape and the Spirit arrived outside of it and it took Snape a moment to figure out where and when they were. Then he caught sight of Sirius Black and Mary Macdonald standing outside the doors, both of them dressed for a wedding, both chatting animatedly with Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Edward Abbott and his fiancée Sarah Fisher.

Snape felt his stomach drop. "This is the day Lily married Potter."

As they watched the group, Sirius caught sight of something in the distance and said loudly "Aha! Here we go!"

Snape turned as the rest of the group looked up. A magnificent white carriage was being towed up the road by a huge black shire-horse, its huge hooves making their way through the slushy snow with ease.

Mary and Sarah both went inside as Sirius and Remus stepped out into the road, Sirius waving to the carriage driver, indicating where he needed to stop.

"And there you are," said the Spirit.

Snape turned and looked. He didn't spot himself immediately, but his did spot a brief shimmer as the light of a streetlamp caught on something. Snape grimaced; he hadn't quite perfected the disillusionment charm at this point.

There was suddenly a lot of shouting and cheering as most of those inside the hall came pouring out. Quickly a gap was formed and within moment the noise increased tenfold, accompanied by clapping and whistling as James and Lily Potter made their way to the carriage.

"She looks beautiful," observed the Spirit.

"Thank you for highlighting my pain." muttered Snape.

At the carriage, James and Lily went around hugging their closest friends until James held out his hand to help his new bridge into their transportation. He climbed in after her, the door was shut and the carriage headed off.

"Right," said Sirius loudly once the carriage was gone. "Come on everyone, the night is still young. Next round of drinks is on me!"

A massive cheer went up and everyone made their way back inside.

"Why do you torture me by showing me this?" demanded Snape of the Spirit.

The Spirit gave no answer. Instead it grabbed him by the shoulder and the world spun for a few moments.

Snape took stock of the new situation, but quickly realised that they were in the exact same place, just a few hours later.

The party was winding down now with many of Lily's muggle friends getting into muggle taxi cabs to head home while wizards and witches staggered off to designated apparition points, complimentary sobering potions clutched in their hands (apparating while intoxicated in never a good idea!)

However, behind the hall there was a bench and on that bench were two people who had other things on their mind.

"Sirius…" muttered Mary. "Sirius, maybe we should go somewhere more private. You know, before someone sees us?"

Sirius Black stopped kissing her neck and sighed. "Yeah, you're right. So, your place or mine?"

Mary laughed at him and said "Yours. Dad'll castrate you if I bring you home."

The two of them got up and immediately froze at the sound of a twig snapping.

"What was that?" asked Sirius, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"Yes, what was that?" asked the Spirit.

Snape closed his eyes and did not reply. He knew exactly why he was being shown this.

"Sirius, be careful!" hissed Mary.

Sirius was no more than twenty feet from Mary when the stunning spell came out of nowhere and hit her. Sirius spun around as she slumped in her seat. A moment later something invisible grabbed her and disapparated with her.

Everything stopped.

Snape looked around and asked "Why have we stopped?"

The Spirit looked at him in that strange Luna Lovegood way and responded with her own question. "Are you asking me to show how you murdered Mary Macdonald in front of Lord Voldemort in order to earn your Dark Mark?"

Snape shook his head.

"Why did you do it, Severus? Why Lily's best friend?"

"I was her best friend. Me. It should have been me that married her…"

"It might have been, once," replied the Spirit. "But you didn't pay attention to the warning signs. Lily warned you many times about your behaviour, about your attitude, about your friends, but you wouldn't listen. In the end you pushed her away."

"She should have been mine." protested Snape.

"No. You are wrong Snape. She could have been with you. She could have loved you. But you ended up too much like Mulciber. The fact that you chose to murder Mary Macdonald on Lily's wedding day proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"No…"

"You built it all up in your head, Severus. You came to believe that Potter stole her from her. That Mary Macdonald and Sarah Fisher and Lily's other friends turned her against you, that Petunia was against you. But the truth is that ignored her warnings, you ignored what she would tolerate and in the end that is what pushed her away.

"And as far as you were concerned if you couldn't have her then no one could"

Snape sank to the ground, a sob escaping from his mouth. Hearing the truth spoken to him so bluntly and without an ounce of sugar coating really hurt.

He didn't even realise that the scene was changing until he could smell roast turkey.

* * *

"Vernon, more brandy!" barked the voice of a severely overweight woman.

Snape lifted his head and looked around. They were in the living room of a house that practically screamed _'boring, upper-middle-class muggles live here.'_

At least two televisions and a radio were blaring out, providing a cacophony of Christmas music and a cowboy film.

On the floor there lay a pudgy blonde boy of about six using his mouth to make all the necessary sound effects of war as he drive his new, remote controlled toy tank between the ranks of toy soldiers and into the enemy, in this case a legion of plastic Dinosaur toys.

An obese man with a large moustache bumbled into the room, a bottle of brandy in his hand. He approached the sofa where an equally large woman sat, waving her empty glass in the air expectantly. The man diligently filled the glass until it was nearly overflowing and then ambled over to the armchair, which he sat down in with a huge grunt before snatching his own glass off the small table next to his chair and filling it up with is own over-generous amount of brandy.

"Where on earth are we?" asked Snape.

"Wait a moment and everything will become clear," answered the Spirit.

Behind the man's armchair the living room turned into a dining area where there sat a polished mahogany table which was groaning under enough food to feet at least ten people. There was a gap in the middle of all that food, which was quickly filled when none other than Petunia Dursley (nee Evans) came out of the kitchen, carrying a massive roast turkey.

"Dinner is served," she announced, causing quite the panic in the living room as the three people in there heaved themselves to their feet. The boy charged over to the dining table and immediately grasped a roast potato in his chubby hands.

"Vernon!" said the woman after her third attempt to get up.

Vernon, who had managed to heave himself out of the armchair on the second try offered her and hand and pulled her up. "Come on, Marge. Up you get."

The family of four crowded around the table and, while Petunia, Marge and the boy took their seats, Vernon grabbed the carving knife.

"Merry Christmas to all," he said with a laugh before carving off the first slice and serving it to the boy. "There you are, Dudley, my boy."

"Thanks, Dad," said Dudley, through a mouthful of three pigs in blankets.

"Excellent nosh as always, Petunia," said Marge, her own mouth filled with ham. A moment later Vernon slapped one of the turkey legs onto her plate. She grabbed it in her porky hand and bit into it. Opposite her Petunia used her knife and fork to cut a small piece off of her slice of turkey and popped it daintily into her mouth.

"I still don't understand," said Snape. "Why are we here with these horrible people?"

"Have you not worked it out?" asked the Spirit, and Snape was startled by how mocking its tone was. "Do you not see who what it over there between her husband and son?"

"Yes, she's Lily's sister, Petunia. But why do I need to see her how she is now?"

"Has it not occurred to you that someone is missing from this scene? Did you not know that little Harry Potter was sent to live here after James and Lily were killed?"

"I am aware of that…"

"And are you aware that Dudley is only a month older than Harry?"

"That can't be right, otherwise the brat would be here…" Snape trailed off, as if realising something. "Where is he, Spirit? Where is Lily's son?"

The Spirit drifted out of the Living Room and into the hallway where it gestured towards the cupboard under the stairs. The door did not open as they could not affect anything of what they were seeing. Nor did they go inside the cupboard as there was no room.

But the door, by some magic afforded to the Spirit, suddenly became transparent.

Six year old Harry Potter was sitting in the opposite corner, his knees tucked up under his chin. His glasses were broken, his nose was bloody, the skin around his left eye was turning purple and his short-sleeved t-shirt, although much too big for him, revealed burn marks.

"The burns are from being made to cook the meal being consumed in the other room," said the Spirit, in a tone similar to that which you might use to talk about the weather. "Everything else is because he dared to ask if he could have some turkey."

Once again Snape felt himself sinking to his knees. "How?" he asked, plaintively. "How was this allowed to happen? Didn't Dumbledore know?"

"Probably," replied the Spirit. "But whether he knew or not is irrelevant. Either way he is guilty. If he knew he ignored it. If he didn't know, then he neglected to check up on the boy."

"And what of Petunia? How can she let this happen to her own sister's son?"

"Petunia Dursley hates magic. She hates it because it took her sister away from her. First Lily became your friend and you bonded with Lily over something Petunia could not do. Then Lily went to Hogwarts, where Petunia wasn't allowed to go. So for eight months of the year, Petunia was forced to exist without her sister. Then Lily married James. Vernon and James did not like each other. And then finally magic, in the form of Tom Marvolo Riddle in his guise as Lord Voldemort, kills Lily.

"Harry Potter was dumped on Petunia's doorstep with nothing but a note explaining that Lily had died and that Petunia was now expected to raise her nephew. Neither Dumbledore not the Ministry had the decency to talk to her face to face.

"She did not want Harry, but she had no way of contacting the magical world as she did not have an owl and could not access the one magical place she knew the rough location of – Diagon Alley.

"So she, resentfully, took Harry in, but she hates him. She hates him because he represents her sister and the horrible world that took her away."

Snape buried his face in his hands in grief. A moment later he felt the room spin and when he looked up he found that he was back in his own bedroom in his own home.

Looking around the room he saw that the Spirit was gone and that the clock on the wall said that there was just one minute until two o'clock.

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next up, The Ghost of Christmas Present. That one might not be as long as this one though.**


End file.
